This bond is relentless.
Not to mention watching two commanding and equally attractive kings preside over war strategy for the realms of Everlea and Oryndhr at each end of an enormous table.
On one side of the room, Roshan sits with his hands steepled, his handsome face somber. There’s no sign of the evil god remnant that had been controlling him. He’s the old Roshan and the man I fell in love with. The man Istilllove.
Perhaps, like him, I’d never truly let go of the spark between us... and the fact that I’d given him part of my soul so he could live binds us together even now. The greatest poets say you never forget your first love. And that’s true, but mine is also eternally linked to me by the choice I’d made. A choice I stand by even now.
Evenaftereverything.
Each day, a handwritten note is delivered to my chambers from the king of Oryndhr, some with earnest intentions to win back my love, some with sweet, poetic nothings, some with his favorite memories of us—the day he first saw me, our first kiss, when we made love—and others with the thoughts of me that had sustained him while he was under the influence of Fero. They come without fail, and I am eager to read each one.
He is determined to keep his promises and earn my forgiveness one day at a time.
But the truth is... I’ve already forgiven him. An offense is only unforgiveable if one is lacking in remorse and repentance, and Roshan has proven that he will do everything in his power to right his wrongs. As he has said, a true king will accept the consequences of his actions, even if they were steered by another’s hand. He is responsible for his people and for guiding them down the right path.
The deep sense of nobility I admired about him hasn’t changed, nor has his honor or integrity been irrevocably corrupted by Fero. Surreptitiously, I peer at him, drinking in his golden good looks that have only become more so in the months we’ve been apart.
His deep brown hair has grown longer, curling over his collar in a way that makes my fingers itch to touch it, and without the god of death eating away at him, his beautiful features hold a serenity that I haven’t seen in an age. He’s leaner, but no less strong—those wide shoulders and tapered waist still combining to make me breathless.
The memory of that sculpted body from Nyriell is firmly lodged in my brain. At the thought of my first time, my chest squeezes. Roshan has always been an attentive, careful lover. Would he be the same now?
At that wickedly provocative notion, my gaze shifts to my soul-fated. My heart gives a quiver behind my ribs at the sight of Darrius, as it usually does. Impressive and kingly, he sprawls in his chair, silver hair fashioned into a warbraid, sides of his skull shaved short and with that spiky onyx crown resting fiercely on his brow. My mouth waters at the strength in that honed, preternaturally still form, like an apex predator lying in wait.
Little do the people know that beneath that mortal skin, a manticore prowls. His perfect face is carved in ruthless authority, the curve of his stern but sultry mouth pulled tight, his intense gaze directed to the map at the center of the table. I want that brutal midnight stare on me... undressing me, promising all the deliciously filthy things he will do to me later.
Stop, wife. Or I will fuck you in front of everyone on this table and let them watch.
I inhale audibly, a heated tremor pulsing at my core—gods, I wouldn’t say no—and my cheeks burn at the admission, right before slamming down my mental walls. Being watched isn’t one of my proclivities, but if it means getting my king inside me, I could be persuaded.
Especially if Roshan is watching... or participating.
The rush of heat accompanying that image is extreme.
By the gods, Starbright, I can scent your desire.
I blush hard.I’m sorry. I’ll try to keep a better hold on my emotions.
An amused growl comes down the bond.In any other situation I wouldn’t mind, but I am unable to stand at the moment, lest I put my raging erection on display.
Eyes fluttering shut at the sudden inclination to destroy the table blocking my view—and the equally violent urge to climb beneath it—I swallow.Sorry, it’s the bond.
But it isn’t just the bond, because I want Roshan, too.
And that terrifies me, because I don’t want to have to choose between them.
“Are you well?” Clem whispers from where she’s sitting on my right, her gaze concerned. “You’re very flushed.”
I nod and summon a pulse of ice magic to cool my overheated body.There.“There are a lot of people in here.”
“It is quite warm,” she agrees.
The war room is big, but it’s definitely filled to capacity with Darrius and his small council, Roshan and his entourage, including the alderman of each city in Oryndhr, and the Aspacana, as well as a few high nobles of Everlean cities.
My father would be here with Aran and their merry band of rebels, but he’s currently sleeping in my old room in the castle. Miracle of miracles, Nuadar, of all people, had been the one to administer the healing tonic, specially brewed to counter Anahima’s, that was saving him. I can’t believe I thought he was the oracle.
Although I am being gracious to Clem, Aran, and Hamid, I’m more cautious in my goodwill. While Roshan had an evil ancient god manipulating him, they were obeying him without any such manipulation. To a degree, I can empathize, as I also did monstrous things out of loyalty to my king. But it will take time to trust them fully, I suspect.
Tell them the azdaha will fly for our riders.
